


Unbearably Domestic

by Quercusrobur



Series: Lock the Door, Jack [3]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation Interruptus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quercusrobur/pseuds/Quercusrobur
Summary: “Are you busy, Jack?” the Doctor says as he opens the bedroom door. “I want to recalibrate the temporal sensor arrays and I need an extra pair of hands -”“Yes,” Jack says, wondering if he ought to invite the Doctor in or tell him to go away.





	Unbearably Domestic

“Are you busy, Jack?” the Doctor says as he opens the bedroom door. “I want to recalibrate the temporal sensor arrays and I need an extra pair of hands -”

“Yes,” Jack says, wondering if he ought to invite the Doctor in or tell him to go away.

There is a pause. “Do you not like clothes?”

Resigning himself to the interruption, Jack snorts, and slows the motion of his hand on his cock. The Doctor is hanging back warily. “I like clothes. But they get in the way of other things I also like.”

“That seems a bit narcissistic.”

“There is _nothing_ wrong with - now you're just being an arse.” Rolling his eyes, Jack sprawls more comfortably into the pillows. “Come over here and help if you care, then. You haven't seemed interested, lately.”

The Doctor takes a step toward the bed. “You said it wasn't a problem.” Another step.

“It's _not_. And if you just want to watch, that's fine too.” More than fine; a faint flush on his cheeks, a familiar possessive look in his eyes, and Jack can feel his breath quicken, his own face heat in excitement.

Finally reaching the bed, the Doctor stands half turned away, hands poised to remember something else he needs to be doing, and regards Jack with a distinctly mixed expression. “This is unbearably domestic.”

“Walking in on me is somehow _more_ domestic than fetching me for chores?” Jack lets his voice go a bit breathy.

“Ah. Fair point, I suppose.” And then the Doctor is kneeling on the bed, pushing Jack flat as he laps at the head of his cock, cool breath firing every nerve. Jack loves to see the Doctor's face, to be the focus of that otherworldly concentration, but as he reaches to push the Doctor's hair out of the way lips slide down over him and he loses the plot completely as he is engulfed. The Doctor hums appreciatively and Jack, to his distant embarrassment, _whimpers_ , hand and head fallen limp to the bed. The Doctor laughs and does something clever with his tongue.

“Doctor,” Jack gasps, “if you keep that up -” He keeps it up, and Jack comes entirely too soon. He tugs lightly at the Doctor's head.

Kneeling up, the Doctor looks down at him with a faintly satisfied air as he licks his lips and orders casually, “Eat more fruit.” Jack, still catching his breath, chokes on a laugh. The Doctor raises his eyebrows enquiringly.

“It doesn't get more domestic than that, Doc.”

“Well. Maybe.” Hopping to his feet, the Doctor turns toward the door. “ _Now_ come help me with the sensor arrays. And put some clothes on that thing you like.”

“I’m just saying,” Jack says, not particularly quietly, “I’m not the only one.”

-+-+-+-

 


End file.
